


Lost Who I Am

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Shattered [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amnesia, Blood, Blood Magic, Gen, Mind Manipulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Here, Calliope,” he said, sitting down near her feet. “You fell asleep right after Professor Dumbledore dropped you off. We didn’t get a chance to speak.”</p><p>“No. We did not. What happened to my arm?” she asked, staring at it. </p><p>“You cut it,” he informed her. “You’ve always had that scar.”</p><p>Realization dawned on her face. Tom smirked. </p><p>“Oh, yes. I remember,” she said, awe in her voice. “I remember something!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost Who I Am

**Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.**

* * *

Tom gathered the things he needed for the memory implanting process including a Pensive bowl where he had already stored all of the memories he had created for Calliope. From what he’d over heard Dumbledore telling the Headmaster, Calliope remembered how to do basic things. He thought it was strange she had an American accent, but figured it was part of her memory lost. The Ministry and St. Mungo’s had concluded Morfin had knocked Calliope out and performed a memory spell that had gone wrong. It had stripped her of personal memories, leaving behind the ablity to read, write, walk, and speak. 

Smirking widely, Tom mentally patted himself on the back. 

Sitting down in a chair next to where the girl lay sleeping, Tom pulled his wand out and began to decant the memories he’d created into her head. The basics: who she was, when she was born, the back story she’d fed to Dumbledore. He left out the time travel, knowing Dumbledore would never bring it up due to the fact it would confuse the poor amnesiac. The more complex memories: her childhood (he’d had fun making that up), her personality, and all the Black family history he could find. He fabricated memories of the two of them over the summer, trying to keep it as close as he could to what had happened. He left out the singing to annoy him, as well as all her public performances. He put a fail safe in that if Dumbledore asked her about anything from the past summer, she would claim ignorance. 

She also would no longer trust Dumbledore. 

He finished putting her new memories in and placed a time release spell on them so they’d slowly come back to her as he said things to her. He knew it would be his job, as her brother, to help her gain her memory back. He’d control when and what she remembered. 

Standing, he took the Pensive back to his room, storing it in his trunk. Cracking his stiff neck, he grabbed the next items needed. She wasn’t his blood sister, but he planned make her his blood relation. He would gain some of her power through shared blood. She’d gain some of his, but she’d be connected and tethered to him, as he was the active bonder.  

She would be his. 

Tom walked back into the Common Room and retook his seat. Picking up her left arm, he twirled the knife between his long fingers for a moment before deciding what to cut into her arm. He pressed the charmed silver blade to her tan forearm, smirking. He lightly scratched the design into her arm before he cut it. Red blood began to bulb out, spilling all over her arm and running over to splatter on the couch. 

She did not wake. Between the stress of St. Mungo’s and the memory molding Tom had done, she was physical and mentally exhausted. 

He picked up his own wand and slashed his own forearm. The blood rose out of his own forearm much faster than the design he’d etched into her arm. He quickly pressed his own arm to hers and bound them together in white silk. He began to the spell, putting as much pressure as he could on their bound arms. Instead of performing the incantation in English, he performed it in Latin. This would insure the bond was strong. 

“ _Cum isto sanguine nos alligant simul ut relationibus, commutent munera nostra, cum hoc serico, fac nos fortior, sapientior et familiar, cum huius magicae creare ties colligationis trans tempore et spatio._ ”

Tom felt the magic flow between them. It hurt. He felt it in his core, the warping and reforming. He continued to put pressure on the wounds, watching as the black, white and grey magics exchanged and tore apart. Tom could feel things changing within him. Pain flowed through him. His eyes hurt, every muscle in his body hurt. His bones felt like they were stretching out. 

Then, as quickly as it’d come, the pain left. Tom slowly peeled his eyes open. He could see sharper. He could smell more things, especially the metallic tang of their blood seeping into the silk. He felt stronger instead of weaker as the light around their arms began to fade. He was still panting when the ritual was finished, but he did not feel magically or physically exhausted as he assumed he would. 

He unwrapped the silk from their arms. He folded it up and shoved it into his pocket. He cleaned his own wound and healed it right away. He healed and cleaned her arm, but due to the knife he used, there was a faint, pale white scar on her arm. He smirked.

He’d marked her as his own.

He traced the scar with his long fingers and noticed something. She was pale and no longer the light shade of tan she’d been before. Her skin tone and color was the same shade as Tom. As he studied her, he noticed more things. He could see a pale grey and dark grey color swirling around her faintly. Looking at his own skin, he saw black swirls, mixed with some dark grey. He looked around the Slytherin Common room and noted he could see things be could not before. Standing, he studied the paintings. They danced with magic. 

He could see magic. 

“Brilliant,” he breathed. 

He performed a few spells. Faintly, he saw the black colored magic flow out of his wand. 

He wandered around the room, faintly seeing some of the wards of the school, the magic used to spell the windows and finally the magic in the mirrors that allowed them to talk. His reflection stared back at him and he jumped a bit.

His eyes were different. There was an amber ring around the outside of his dark blue eyes. As he studied his eyes closer, he noticed brown specks mixed in with the dark blue ones. It made his eyes look darker. His hair also looked darker, if that was possible. And had more of a curl to it. 

Like Atlanta Black’s hair when she actually did something with it. 

Backing up, he noted that his pants were about an inch shorter. No wonder his bones had hurt. He’d grown an inch in the span of fifteen minutes. 

“Interesting,” Tom breathed. 

He had not been aware they’d take on physical traits as well as magical traits. Heading back out into the Common room, he studied Calliope. She looked pretty much the same, other than the fact she had alabaster skin, just as Tom. He picked up her black hair. He held it against his and they were the exact same shade. As he studied her hair, he noticed it curled better, as before he’d started, it had been a wavy mess. As he curled one of the curls around his finger, she groaned.

“What is going on?” she asked in a perfect aristocratic British accent. 

Tom smirked. Thank god that was back. He dropped the curl. 

“Oh, I sound different,” she announced. “Tom?”

“Here, Calliope,” he said, sitting down near her feet. “You fell asleep right after Professor Dumbledore dropped you off. We didn’t get a chance to speak.”

“No. We did not. What happened to my arm?” she asked, staring at it. 

“You cut it,” he informed her. “You’ve always had that scar.”

Realization dawned on her face. Tom smirked. 

“Oh, yes. I remember,” she said, awe in her voice. “I remember something!”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll try my best to help you remember. Granted, I do not know much of your childhood, but I will try my best,” he said. “Do you remember me?”

“Well, I know you are Tom Riddle. Professor Dumbledore said you were my half brother?” 

“Correct. I’m your half brother,” he agreed. “You usually call me Tee or T.M.”

“What does the ‘M’ stand for?”

“Marvolo.”

Calliope gracefully arranged herself in a seated position, smoothing her skirt down. 

He reached over his long fingers and caught her chin. He tilted her head towards his and studied her eyes. Here were still that odd shade of amber flecked with dark blue with a dark blue ring around the outside. The exact opposite of his own eyes. As he studied her face he did noticed a few other small changes. Her eyes were a bit more shaped like his, her eyelashes were far more dense and her lips were the same shade as his: more red than pink. 

“Are you sure you are all right, Calliope?” he asked, playing the role of worried brother perfectly. 

“I am tired still. And my arm aches, oddly. Does it often hurt if it is an old scar?”

“A pain potion, maybe?” Tom asked, smiling at her and ignoring her last question. 

“Yes. That would be lovely,” she said softly.

Tom dropped her chin and pulled out a pain potion from his other pocket. He led her to the room she’d been staying in, explaining he would be in the six year boy’s dormitory. She nodded and bid him good night. Smirking, he headed for his own room. 

He removed the bloody silk from his pocket. One never knew when blood was needed without the donor’s permission. Folding the silk up, he stuffed it into his trunk. Straightening, he grabbed a book and lounged on his bed. He quieted his mind to prepare for reading. He would test her what abilities she had tomorrow. He was actually quite excited to discover which magical traits she had gained from him. Normally, Tom was not one to want to share, but there was something about Calliope that overcame this usual inclination.

She was his. He possessed her, controlled her and having her be his equal would work for his benefit. 

* * *

_A/N: Translation of the Binding Spell: With this binding in the blood of us at the same time as relations, may exchange our gifts, since this silk, make us stronger, wiser and the familiar, to create ties that bind with the other side of the magic of this time and space._


End file.
